


Never have I ever (not) been into you

by Heath17_KO5



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, KMewett, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5
Summary: Emily's got a crush on Kristie. It's not a great idea though. Having a crush on your best friend's big sister is never a great idea. If only she could get a handle on it before things get out of control.
Relationships: Emily Sonnett/Kristie Mewis, Kristie Mewis/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 9
Kudos: 177





	Never have I ever (not) been into you

**Author's Note:**

> I started this just before Sonny stood. I'm done with being disappointed in players I loved that just somehow still miss the point. Please don't @ me for finishing and posting this. It's all fictional. This is a fictional Sonnett and a fictional KMew, and fictional history as well because I didn't feel like researching actual times and dates. 
> 
> This is a belated birthday present for LittleOblivion. I hope you like it! <3 Happy birthday! Sorry it's late!

Emily’s been best friends with Sammy for...well, it feels like forever. It hasn’t been, obviously, but day one of camp when she was thirteen and Sammy was fourteen they bonded instantly. 

Emily has had a crush on Kristie for...well, one day less than she’s been best friends with Sammy. 

And that’s a problem. 

  
  


It’s one thing when you have a mild childhood crush on your best friend’s sister before you even fully realize you might like girls. It just solidifies that you want to spend time with both of them and, since Sammy and Kristie are so often together, that’s fine. 

Maybe sometimes Sammy had given her weird looks when she’d told Kristie she looked gorgeous as she spun for them before heading out for a date, but it didn’t mean anything. 

And then —

  
  


Then Kristie started dating girls. 

Honestly, Emily probably would’ve been happy forever repressing the faint little crush and writing it off as friendship if Kristie hadn’t casually mentioned “her girlfriend” one day in conversation, as if she wasn’t rocking Emily’s entire world with those words. 

Sammy’s jaw had dropped, but Emily had sat there, tight-lipped, feeling her entire world shift on its axis. 

“GIRLFRIEND? LIKE THE TYPE YOU KISS AND STUFF?” Sammy had demanded. 

And Kristie had shrugged like it was nothing. She’d smirked and said, “Girls are WAY better kissers,” her blue eyes glinting with mischief.

Emily had barely been able to breathe for the rest of the day. 

  
  


She’s never told Sammy, of course. She wouldn’t. Not ever. 

She came out to her, of course, but she never mentioned — 

She couldn’t. Sammy would never talk to her again. 

Besides, it’s just a crush. Albeit a long one.

But Kristie’s never been single long enough for Emily to even entertain the idea of acting on it. 

Not that she would.

She wouldn’t. 

Sammy is her best friend. No way she’d risk that over some crush. 

(Not even a crush on Kristie with twinkling blue eyes and mischievous smile and bright laugh and flowing blonde hair and —)

She wouldn’t. 

She won’t. 

  
  


She teases. A little. Sometimes. Not a lot. 

She can’t help it that Kristie is drop-dead gorgeous. She’s always turned heads. 

Sammy is rolling her eyes because of the group of guys obviously ogling Kristie as she stretches. “I don’t get it.” 

“Aww, don’t be mad cause she’s hotter, Sammy!” Emily teases. 

“We literally have the exact same nose!” Sammy retorts. 

Emily scrutinizes this claim, squinting at Sammy, leaning in close until Sammy shoves her away. 

“Huh,” Emily murmurs when she sees that Sammy is, in fact, correct. “Well, she wears it better.”

She hears a giggle and realizes that Kristie has overheard. 

Sammy, on the other hand, isn’t amused. 

As Sammy gives her a hard shove, Kristie makes eye contact with Emily and winks. 

She’s sure she’s never blushed so hard in her life. 

  
  


Rose catches her. 

They’re just playing around, hanging out. They play a pickup game and Emily chooses Kristie. Kristie is older. She has more National Team experience. It’s not an outrageous decision. 

But Rose gives her a look. 

And afterwards, when they’re headed back to the hotel, Rose asks. 

She should say no. 

She should keep this stupid crush locked up inside and never let it see the light of day. 

“I didn’t mean to!” she groans. 

Just like that it’s out. Someone knows. 

“I KNEW it!” Rose declares. “Sonnett, Sam would kick your butt if she found out.” 

“I know,” Emily replies miserably. Then a horrific idea hits her and she grabs Rose by the shoulders, stopping her short. “You can’t tell her. Ever!” 

Rose looks at her like she’s grown two heads. “I won’t! Of course not!” 

Emily sags a little, relief washing over her. 

“So how long have you wanted to see Sam’s sister naked?” Rose asks with a smirk on her face. 

Emily puts her face in her hands and groans again. 

  
  


Sammy gets a boyfriend. A serious boyfriend. 

He’s a nice guy. Genuinely nice, not in a fake way. He fits right in when they all hang out. It’s like he’s always been a part of the group. Emily likes him. 

Sammy’s got a boyfriend and Kristie has a girlfriend and Rose has “possibilities” with this guy. 

And Emily is single. 

Painfully, noticeably single. 

  
  


She takes any extra practice time she can get. She spends hours in her parents’ backyard working on touches, working on curving the ball just so, working on pull-backs and juggling and anything else that will give her that extra edge, that extra bit of control. 

It keeps her busy, keeps her focused. It keeps her from thinking about how everyone is pairing off but her. Everyone is moving into the grown-up phase of their life and leaving her behind. 

Moe just gotten engaged and Rose is seriously dating whatshisface and Sammy and Pat are totally headed towards marriage and Emma has been dating the same guy all through college and Kristie —

  
  


Kristie storms into the Mewis kitchen and throws her phone down on the counter. 

Sammy’s home for break, but Kristie’s home for injury. Emily’s just there for a visit. 

She jumps when Kristie snarls, “Fucking bitch!”

She raises her eyebrows at Kristie, continuing to make her own sandwich in a kitchen that feels as comfortable to her as her own, but she doesn’t comment. 

“Sorry, not you,” Kristie acknowledges. 

Emily nods. “Good. Glad to hear it,” she jokes. 

“Rachel,” Kristie supplies. “I think it’s really fucking over this time.” 

Emily’s hand stills on the piece of lettuce she’s just placed. She swallows hard and pretends that her stomach hasn’t just done a little flip. “Oh?” 

It’s been “over” with Rachel before, though, Emily reminds herself. 

“She’s just so selfish. Like this injury is my fucking fault.” Kristie gestures at her leg and rolls her eyes. 

It’s not Emily’s fault that her eyes trail up long, tanned legs. It’s not her fault that they linger over how toned they look, despite that Kristie hasn’t been able to work out full force for a few months already. 

She swallows again. 

“And she acts like I’m oblivious. Like I can’t see the way her eye strays. Fucking — GAH!” she screams, flopping against the counter. 

Kristie looks up at Emily, and Emily turns quickly back to her sandwich, feeling her cheeks start to flush. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Emily sees Kristie cock her head to the side as she studies her. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Oh, um, just a few days. Gotta get back to training soon.”

Kristie nods. “Right. Portland being good to you?” 

Emily nods. “Yep. For now, anyway.” 

“Good.” 

Emily nods again. She’s starting to feel a bit like a bobblehead. 

Kristie pushes off the counter and steps closer. “Guess I should root for you guys, as long as you’re not playing Sammy, of course. No allegiance to my team right now.” 

With those words burning into Emily’s mind, Kristie steals a slice off cheese of her sandwich and strolls out of the kitchen. 

It takes Emily a good five minutes before she can breathe normally enough to finish making her sandwich.

  
  


They don’t really text. 

Well, it’s not like Emily has never texted Kristie or vice versa. Most of their text exchanges take place in group chats or revolve around things like Sammy’s birthdays, though. 

They don’t really text like THIS. 

Emily stares at the picture on her phone, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. There’s just so much skin. Toned muscles, smooth expanses of oh-so-touchable skin, flexed abs, the curve of her breasts peeking out from beneath the bright pink fabric. The thin fabric of the bottoms leading Emily’s eyes directly to where she knows she shouldn’t look. 

She tears her eyes away to read the words again. 

_ What do you think? _

Before she can manage to make her brain function properly enough to attempt a response, another picture comes in. 

_ Or this one? _ Is written beneath it. 

This bikini covers differently and is green, but manages to be equally revealing, and Emily shifts uncomfortably in her seat, aware that she’s getting wet just from this, just from two perfectly innocent pictures of her best friend’s sister in a bikini. She’s asking for shopping advice. From a friend. From someone “safe”. Her kid sister’s best friend. 

Emily clears her throat even though nobody is around to hear her. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and counts to ten, trying to clear the images from her mind. 

She fails miserably.

Even with her eyes shut tight she can see Kristie, posing in the dressing room mirror, in her skimpy bikinis, looking exactly like one of Emily’s fantasies that she will never, even under duress, admit to having. 

Her phone buzzes again and she’s almost scared to look. 

_ Which one screams “Come rip it off me and take me to bed”? _

She can’t breathe. Is breathing really necessary though? When words like that are running through her mind in relation to Kristie Mewis, it sure doesn’t feel like it.

And then she gets hit with the sock full of rocks to the gut that is reality. 

_ You back with Rachel? _

She shouldn’t care. She REALLY shouldn’t ask. 

_ Yep. :D _

Nausea rolls through her stomach. 

_ Go with the pink. _

  
  


Emily only realizes after the game that she’s there. She’s halfway through some stupid joke, re-enacting it with the goofiest expression on her face, leaping around like a maniac, when Kristie appears at Sammy’s shoulder. Gives her a hug, gives Tobin a hug, waves at Lindsey and Abby, and then —

“Hey, Son! Looked good out there tonight!” 

She feels her cheeks burn, feels herself freeze in place. It’s an elbow from Crystal as she jogs over after her post-game interview that snaps her out of it. “Um, thanks,” she mumbles, but Kristie is already hugging Crystal. 

“Didn’t know you were here, um, in town,” Emily manages in a voice that ALMOST isn’t strained. 

“Yeah, she came to visit me for two whole weeks!” Sammy declares happily. 

Crystal and Tobin are looking at Emily funny. She ignores them. 

“Cool! You should’ve told me,” Emily says. Except that’s not true. There’s no real reason Sammy should have told her other than that Sammy knows that Emily knows Kristie. 

Sammy’s looking at her a little funny now too. 

Kristie steps towards her and throws an arm around her shoulder. “Aww, did you miss me, Sonnett?” She rubs her knuckles into Emily’s head and Emily ducks away, out of her reach, cheeks on fire. 

“Only like I’d miss a parasite,” she lies. 

Kristie laughs, then holds a hand to her chest, acting wounded. “You wound me, Sonnett.” 

And then before Emily can say something even more ridiculous, before she gets caught in her strange behavior and outright lies, Kristie says, “Hey we should do something tonight. Like all of us!” 

“Sorry. I’ve got a Facetime date with Chris,” Tobin replies. 

Abby shakes her head. “I’m beat and Aaron promised me a massage.” 

Kristie pouts. “Party pooper. Sammy?” 

“Of course,” Sammy replies. 

“Linds?” 

“Actually my mom’s friend is in town, and I promised my mom that I’d have dinner with her.” 

“Booo,” Kristie moans. “Crys?” 

“You know I’m down.” 

“Yesss!” Kristie declares, giving her a high five. 

“What do you say, Son?” 

She should say no. She should say no and go back to her hotel room and rest and get some sleep. She should say no and put Kristie Mewis firmly out of her mind. 

“Yeah. Sure.” 

  
  


She ends up next to Kristie at the table somehow. She doesn’t really know how. She definitely wasn’t TRYING to end up next to her. 

But here she is, sitting with Kristie almost pressed into her side while Sammy and Crystal sit across from them. Why had they had to get a booth?

Emily does her best to make herself as small as possible while simultaneously acting as normal as possible. 

Kristie throws her arm around Emily’s shoulders, angling towards her to say something to Crystal, and Emily has to remind herself to breathe, to not look at Kristie, to not think about how fucking CLOSE they are right now. 

She expects Kristie to move her arm, to reclaim it, but she tucks it casually around Emily’s shoulders like it’s nothing, like Emily isn’t sitting there acutely aware of every single point of contact. 

Kristie’s knee bumps hers and Emily does her best to follow what Sammy’s saying instead of focusing on the touch. 

And then —

“Relax, Son. Games over. No need to be so tense.”

The words are hot in her ear as Kristie’s lips brush the outer edge of it. 

Emily thinks it’s entirely possible that she might explode. 

She forces a laugh, forces her shoulders to slump down despite the tension in the muscles, forces the words, “Hard for me to unwind after a game,” out of her mouth. 

Too loud. 

Crystal is raising an eyebrow at her. Sammy looks surprised.

Neither of them heard Kristie. 

Sammy, though, comes to her rescue, albeit unintentionally. She laughs. “You always have too much energy, Sonnett. It’s like endless. They should have you do those Energizer bunny commercials, just you running around in circles never getting tired.” 

Everyone laughs and Emily does too. She laughs as if Kristie isn’t still touching her, isn’t pressed into her side, as if she can’t still feel the echo of Kristie’s breath on her ear. She mimics banging the Energizer bunny’s drum. 

“Nah, you gotta put some flare in it. Come on, girl. Dance with the drum,” Crystal says, demonstrating in her seat, and Emily manages, for a moment, to pretend like everything is normal, like her insides aren’t boiling, like it’s someone else beside her, as she dances in her seat, matching Crystal’s moves, matching the beat of the music overhead. 

And then they’re all dancing in their seats and it’s okay, it’s fine, it’s normal. It’s just like any other normal outing with friends. 

They laugh, they talk, and Emily remembers to breathe.

Mostly. 

  
  


“Endless energy, huh?” 

Emily looks up from where she’s washing her hands, watches as Kristie emerges from a stall and walks up to the sink next to her, eyes meeting Emily’s in the mirror. 

She feels her cheeks burn. “Oh, ha, yeah, I guess.” 

She keeps scrubbing, turns her eyes to her hands, watches the water cascade over them. 

“Bet your girlfriend appreciates that,” Kristie says. 

Emily’s breath catches in her throat. Just for a second. She forces out another laugh. “She might if I weren’t painfully single.” 

Kristie finishes washing her hands, shakes the excess water off of them, reaches for the paper towels between them and dries them off. Emily tries not to watch her hands, to notice her fingers, to think about them —

“Shame,” Kristie murmurs, brushing past her, her whole body making contact when it’s really not necessary. 

For a split second Emily has the horrifying notion that Kristie knows. 

And then Kristie says, “See you out there,” in a voice so normal that there’s no way she does. 

Emily splashes water on her face before she finds it in herself to make her way back to the table. 

  
  


Kristie gets cleared, finally, and Emily texts her congratulations. 

She doesn’t really expect a text back. It’s just a little thing. She probably has a gazillion people texting her congrats. 

_ Thanks, Son! Can’t wait to score on you! ;) _

She obviously doesn’t mean it like THAT, but Emily feels something tighten in her chest all the same. 

_ Haha, you wish. _

But the truth is that she wishes. She wishes and she wants and honestly this crush has lasted long enough. Shouldn’t she be over it by now? Shouldn’t she have moved on? 

_ Tell you what: if I score, you have to buy me a drink. If you block me, I have to buy you a drink.  _

Emily stares at the words for far too long before she manages to reply,  _ Sounds good _ . 

It’s not flirting. It’s a friendly wager. It’s something she’d do with Mal or Rose or anyone. 

It’s just her heart rate is currently refusing to acknowledge that. 

  
  


Emily wins the wager. She’s not going to hold her to it, though. It’s not —

She’s not —

It’s fine if she doesn’t.

Emily doesn’t expect anything. 

It was never a date or anything close, after all. 

But Kristie finds her on the field, pulls her into a hug, and says, “Guess I’m buying you a drink.”

Emily’s heart beats faster than it did all game. 

  
  


She invites others along, but they decline. She thinks Jane might come, but she backs out last minute. 

So unlike in North Carolina, it’s just the two of them that make their way out after the game. 

They go to somewhere near Kristie’s hotel. She’s got an early flight in the morning so it just makes sense. (It’s definitely not that Emily will just say yes to absolutely anything and everything that Kristie suggests.)

They walk up to the bar together, Emily feeling uncomfortably hot in her UVA sweatshirt even though there’s a chill in the air tonight. Kristie leans against it looking every bit like a pinup model, cocks up her eyebrow at Emily and asks, “So whatcha having?” 

Emily almost blurts out, “You.” 

Almost.

She catches the word on her tongue. Turns it into, “Yuengling? Or whatever. Beer. Beer is good.” 

Kristie smirks. “Articulate, Son. What a way with words.”

Emily blushes hard, but tries to cover it up, tries to do what she does best and joke her way out of it. “Hey, some girls think not being picky is a good thing.” 

Kristie raises her eyebrow even higher. “Oh yeah? Which girls are these? Anyone I know?” 

Emily swallows hard. There isn’t anyone. Nobody that she’s gone on more than a handful of dates with in a few years, honestly. 

“You know, so I know who I have to arm-wrestle for your affections,” Kristie adds with a wink. 

It sets Emily’s body on fire. If she’d been warm before, now she’s sweltering. She can’t keep her sweatshirt on or she’ll overheat. She tugs it up, letting it cover her blush, letting it give her a moment of privacy even as it tugs up her shirt with it in a semi-crowded bar. 

And then there’s a hand, soft and warm, tugging the shirt down, brushing against her abs, lingering for a second. 

And when Emily gets the sweatshirt over her head, Kristie is right there, so close, blue eyes gleaming in the dim light of the bar, a smirk across her perfectly kissable lips. “You were trying to flash the whole bar,” she murmurs, too close, voice too low. 

“I mean maybe they’d enjoy the show,” Emily manages another joke. She hopes her grin is convincing, that the color on her cheeks can be written off as heat after a hard game. 

Kristie laughs lightly and shrugs. “Well, I didn’t mind it.” 

_ Fuck. _

Kristie turns to the bar to order and Emily is left frozen in place, cheeks aflame, wondering how, exactly, she is going to survive the night without blowing her biggest secret. 

  
  


She manages. 

Somehow she manages to keep the conversation light, to tell funny stories, to make Kristie laugh (and not at her). Somehow she manages to keep talking while she tries not to get lost in the blue of Kristie’s eyes, in the way her golden hair keeps catching the light, in the way Kristie’s knee bumps hers under the table, the way her hand rests on Emily’s arm when she’s laughing really hard, reaching out for a hint of stability. 

She manages to keep her head. Barely, but she does it.

And then, as they’re walking out, as Kristie slides past her while she holds the door open for her, Kristie leans in, murmurs low in her ear, “So, are you going to kiss me tonight, or…?”

Emily reels. She reels and she stumbles and she fumbles for words, barely aware of her feet following Kristie outside. 

Kristie leans against the solid brick wall outside, looks at Emily expectantly. And Emily can’t think. 

“What?” she finally manages. 

Kristie smirks, she reaches out, curls her fingers around the kangaroo pouch of Emily’s sweatshirt, tugs her closer. “I asked if you were going to kiss me,” she repeats. “Because I’ve been dropping hints that I’d be okay with it all night, but you seem to be missing the point here.” 

Emily lets herself be pulled a step closer, her mind still grappling with the words that Kristie has just spoken. She feels like she’s translating them from a language that she doesn’t know very well. 

“You don’t ACTUALLY have a girlfriend, right? Because it would kinda suck if after all these years of that crush you’ve had you’re now actually taken right when I’m free.” 

“You —”

She knew. She knew this whole time. And she never said anything. Until now. Right now. And she’s asking Emilly to —

“Oh.” 

Kristie’s lips are warm and soft, and Emily presses her back against the wall, cups her hands around Kristie’s face, holds her there for a long, lingering kiss. 

And then years of pent up WANTING feel set free. She’s needy and demanding as she deepens the kiss, swiping her tongue into Kristie’s mouth, sliding fingers into Kristie’s hair, leaning her whole body into the kiss. 

And Kristie gasps, slides hands around her waist, slides them up under the fabric of her shirt to press warmly into her skin. Kristie pulls her in closer, matches her want, matches her desperation. 

“Fuck, Sonny,” she gasps when Emily finally has the presence of mind to step back, to process for a second. 

Kristie’s still leaning against the brick wall, but her hair is a bit messy, her lips are red, her eyes are a little glazed over, and her smile is lazily happy. She looks sexier than Emily’s ever seen her before. 

But she knows this can’t be real. This can’t really be happening. 

Because —

“Come back to my room? My flight’s not for hours yet.” 

Oh, Jesus Christ. 

  
  


They keep their hands to themselves right up until Kristie closes the door to her room. And then Kristie’s lips are back on hers, her hands sliding straight back under Emily’s shirt, lifting it up with the sweatshirt. 

Up and off in one fell swoop. 

“God, a good game makes me so horny,” Kristie moans, kissing her way down Emily’s throat. 

So maybe she’s just some relief, a tool to get Kristie off. She’s okay with that. In this exact moment as Kristie’s hands slide up her ribs she doesn’t care if this is all it is. 

“And you look so hot with your little ponytail and you kept pulling up your shirt and showing off these abs,” Kristie growls, running her fingernails down Emily’s stomach to emphasize her point. “I just wanted to lick them all game.” 

And that’s a whole new revelation. That Kristie’s thought about her, that she’s noticed her, that she’s wanted her. That’s —

Kristie drops to her knees, grins up at Emily, and licks up her abs. 

“Fuck,” Emily whimpers. 

Kristie licks them again then gets back to her feet, steps back, and strips her own top off. 

She’s not wearing a bra. 

Emily’s mouth goes dry. She drags her eyes slowly over one breast and then the other, watches the nipples harden under her gaze. 

“Don’t be shy, Son. You can touch.” 

  
  


They fall into the bed together, Emily kicking off her jeans, Kristie’s breasts in her hands, Kristie’s lips pressed to hers, Kristie’s tongue in her mouth. 

“Fuck! I’ve wanted — God! You’re so fucking—!”

Kristie chuckles against her jaw. “Love how articulate you are, babe.” 

And, God, THAT is something else.  _ Babe _ . The word echoes around her mind in Kristie’s voice, and then Kristie’s fingers are slipping under her sports bra and coherent thought becomes even harder. 

  
  


Once they’re both naked things slow down. Emily’s almost scared to touch, scared to push things over the next boundary. Maybe this is enough, to just lie here and kiss without clothes on. Maybe —

Kristie giggles. The sound is high pitched and a little nervous, and for the first time, Emily realizes that Kristie is blushing. 

Emily cups Kristie’s cheek with her hand, strokes her thumb over a high cheekbone, brushes it down over Kristie’s lips, and waits for Kristie’s eyes to meet her gaze. 

“You sure?” Emily asks. 

Kristie kisses her slowly and Emily takes it as a yes. 

She lets her hands explore, lets her fantasies fuel her actions. She rolls Kristie’s hardened nipple between her thumb and her forefinger, swallows the gasp it elicits with her mouth. She trails her fingertips up and down the ridges of Kristie’s ribs, brushes over the curve of her hip, until she’s cupping her ass, and then she pulls her in, pulls her leg up over her own, presses right into her, kissing her the whole time. 

Her own body is on fire, but the way that Kristie rocks into her tells her that she’s not the only one. 

She holds Kristie there, thumb pressing into the hollow of her hipbone, lips traveling across Kristie’s jaw, down her throat, teeth scraping gently against her collarbone until Kristie trembles against her. 

“Please, Son,” gets whimpered into her hair. 

Emily takes a deep breath in, and lets her fingers travel between Kristie’s legs. 

She can’t help the gasp that happens when she feels just how wet Kristie is for her. She can’t help the way that her head swims for a moment with the knowledge that this is for her, this is happening, this is real. 

And then Kristie is rocking her hips up again, looking for contact, looking for friction, and Emily obliges. 

She starts with one finger, then adds a second after Kristie moans, “More, Sonny. Please!” 

They rock together, bodies intertwined, Emily’s arm wedged between them, her fingers working in and out, finding a steady rhythm, building, responding to Kristie’s body, to her movements, to the panted groans she presses clumsily against Emily’s cheek. 

“Yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Deeper. Fuck, Sonny. Yes! Right there, babe! Yes! YES!” 

Emily adjusts so that she can rub at Kristie’s clit with her thumb. She kisses what she can reach, tangled up on her side with Kristie like she is: Kristie’s lips, her jaw, her cheek, her ear, her temple. 

And then Kristie’s fingers grip at her back, her nails digging in, sure to leave a mark, and Kristie’s head tilts back as her eyes close. Emily can feel Kristie’s whole body begin to tremble, can feel the spasms start, drawing her in deeper still, and then Kristie Mewis, subject of her sexual fantasies for approximately a decade, comes undone in her hands. 

“Fuck,” Kristie gasps afterwards, but now that she’s had a taste, Emily is far from done. 

She eases her fingers out, brings them to her mouth, licks them, tasting Kristie for the first time. She moans at the deliciousness. 

She pushes on Kristie’s shoulder. “Not done yet, babe.” 

And Kristie lies back with an excited groan, spreading her legs wide for her. 

  
  


Emily would have understood if Kristie was spent after a game where she played all 90 minutes and two orgasms. 

Kristie, apparently, isn’t though. Emily’s whole body is shaking in excitement and Kristie climbs over her, straddling her waist, grinds her wetness down on Emily’s stomach. 

“God, Sonny. How long have you wanted to do that? Because…” Kristie’s fingers trail down over Emily’s shoulders, over her breasts, pause to pinch her nipples, “That felt like...Fuck, Son, that was —”

Kristie’s fingernails graze against her ribs and Emily inhales sharply, her abs tensing. 

“I am gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.” 

Emily moans. She can’t help it. The promise, the pet name, the entire situation has her dripping wet. She wants...No, she needs —

Kristie slides down her body, swipes a finger through the wetness she leaves on Emily’s stomach, smirks up at her as she licks it clean. “You got me insanely worked up. Clearly,” she says. 

And then Kristie’s hands are spreading her legs and her lips are kissing along her hipbone and Emily thinks maybe she’s died and gone to heaven and she just hasn’t realized it yet. 

But the fantasy doesn’t stop. No angels interrupt. 

Kristie licks at her skin, kisses her inner thigh, presses her legs apart further. And then she pauses. She pauses long enough for Emily to lift her head and look at her, and then, eyes holding steady, holding Emily’s gaze, she licks through her. 

  
  


It doesn’t take long. Not nearly long enough, really, for Kristie to completely undo her. It’s almost embarrassing, actually, how quickly Kristie works her up with her tongue, how quickly Emily’s coming into Kristie’s mouth. But she doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because before she’s even properly come down, Kristie’s sliding two fingers in, curling them just so, exploring her folds so properly, finding that perfect angle. And Kristie’s tongue works at her clit like she’s done so a thousand times before, stroking just right, and then — 

“Twice!” Emily gasps when she can speak anything but moans again. “Fucking twice in like no time at all.” She groans as Kristie slides up her body looking smug. 

Kristie kisses her hard and she can taste herself there. She moans into the kiss. 

Kristie kisses across Emily’s jaw, up to her ear, sucks her earlobe into her mouth as her hand slides down over Emily’s abs. “Let’s go for three times.”

  
  


She’s dressed again, lingering by the door. She’s not great at goodbyes and this one comes with a question mark of “when will we get to see each other again?” And another of “will this be what happens when we do?” 

Beyond that, there’s something that needs to be addressed: the thing that Emily has managed to push away right up until now, when she can still taste Kristie on her lips, but she’s not so overtaken with lust, with passion, that she can’t think of consequences. 

“Look, about Sammy…”

“We can’t tell her,” Kristie says, and Emily sags in relief.

“Yeah, no. We definitely can’t. I mean, she would flip. She...Yeah. Okay, good.” 

Kristie nods, but there’s something that flashes across her face that Emily can’t quite place. Maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s a touch too close to regret for Emily’s liking. 

“Okay, well...Uh, thanks. For…” Emily gestures towards the messy bed. 

Kristie smirks. “Anytime, Son.”

She pauses for a moment longer, but there’s nothing really left to do. It doesn’t feel like the right time to kiss Kristie again (and if she does, she might not make it out of the room tonight, and that — Well, she needs to go.) “See ya, then.”

Kristie blows her a kiss and Emily turns and leaves. 

She leaves and she walks slowly, cautiously through the hotel, careful to dodge any of Kristie’s teammates that might unexpectedly be up. Her whole body is still humming, and part of her can’t quite shake the idea that this whole night has been some sort of fever dream, that none of it really happened, that she’ll wake up tomorrow without the hickey on her abs.

But her body —

Her body knows. 

  
  


She doesn’t tell anyone. Not a single soul. She doesn’t trust herself not to blab way too much once she’s started talking, so she doesn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. 

But Kristie has a tendency to text her things like  _ I can’t wait to have your tongue between my legs again _ in the middle of team meetings. Or send pictures of her wearing nothing but a thong when she’s about to walk into the locker room to change for practice. 

And Emily turns bright red every single time. 

It’s not really a sign that anything will necessarily happen again between them. She’s sure. It’s just...teasing. They’ve crossed this bridge and there is no walking back from the idea that Emily knows what Kristie looks like naked, sprawled on the bed, spread wide. She knows what Kristie’s lips feel like on her own, on her breasts, on her abs, on her clit. She knows what Kristie tastes like. 

She can’t forget that, even if she wanted to. 

(She really, really doesn’t. She plays it over and over in her head at night and always falls asleep with a smile on her lips.) 

  
  


She doesn’t know how to face Sammy now. 

The first time they group video chat, Emily stares at Sammy’s face in the little square and thinks about how she’s seen Sammy’s sister naked, how she’s fucked her over and over. And then she can’t look at Sammy’s square for the rest of the conversation. 

The second time is a little better, but Emily can’t answer any direct question from her without cracking a joke, her nerves shining through. 

After the third time, Rose calls her right after the group chat ends and says, “Okay, what the hell is going on with you.”

“Nothing,” she lies. 

“Bull,” Rose accuses. “You’re being weird.” 

“I was always weird,” Emily replies. It’s easy with Sammy not part of the conversation, to sound normal, defensive even. 

“Well, that’s true, but you’re being weirder than normal.” 

“I dunno, Rose. Nothing’s going on except the usual pressure to play better and be better. Maybe I’m just becoming more serious about my sport.” 

Rose laughs at that. “Okay, whatever, Sonnet. But I’ll find out eventually. You may as well tell me now.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” It’s the biggest lie she’s ever told. 

Rose sighs, but lets her off the hook and Emily feels like she might explode if she keeps keeping this to herself. 

  
  


Emily tells herself that it’s completely fine if it never happens again. She doesn’t expect it to happen again. It was one super fun night and that’s all. The sexy pictures that Kristie sends her now are just a perk. 

She doesn’t expect anything. 

And then they play in Houston. 

  
  


Kristie looks hot as hell. And Emily’s sure that she’s not imagining the looks that Kristie keeps shooting her, the way she licks her lips a little slowly while holding eye contact, the way she deliberately lifts up her shirt to wipe sweat off her brow, exposing toned abs. 

And Emily —

She trips, goes sprawling, scrapes her elbow. 

And Kristie tries to curve the ball around AD and AD barely gets her hands on it, knocks it just out. 

Emily breathes a sigh of relief, but she knows, she needs to get her head in the game. 

  
  


They tie, but Emily wins. 

Emily wins in the empty corridor of the stadium after all her teammates have headed out, back pressed against the wall, shorts still on, with Kristie’s fingers buried inside of her. 

Emily comes undone with Kristie’s lips on her throat and breathless gasps of, “Fuck! Yes! Right there! I’m coming! Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” 

Emily wins again at Kristie’s apartment, her face buried between Kristie’s legs, drinking her in, lapping at her as Kristie’s fingers tug at her hair and her legs tremble. 

(She doesn’t know if it’s a win or not when Kristie doesn’t ask her to leave afterwards, when she falls asleep naked and spent in Kristie’s bed, when she wakes up and eats breakfast with her in the morning, blushing over a bowl of oatmeal before an awkward goodbye, a kiss at the door. It’s complicating, is what it is. It’s easier if this is just something physical. 

If it keeps happening she might have to tell Sammy and that—

No.)

  
  


Sammy gets engaged. 

She gets engaged and Emily couldn’t be happier for her, but at the same time she gets this intense sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Engagements mean big celebrations. Celebrations that she’ll be invited to. That Kristie will be at as the sister of the bride. 

Emily hasn’t had to see both of them together since —

She doesn’t know if she can handle it. 

She doesn’t know if she can pretend for that long. 

  
  


They somehow end up on the same flight heading to the engagement party. 

Not out of Portland, obviously, but they both connect through Denver. Lindsey does too, Kristie ends up sitting next to Emily and Lindsey is across the aisle. 

It’s fine. 

It’s not an issue. 

They’ve hung out together before. 

Admittedly not since —

Anyway, it’s fine. 

  
  


It’s fine right until Emily puts her tray table down and Kristie lifts the armrest between them. 

It’s fine right up until Kristie puts her tray table down too and then Emily feels a hand on her leg. 

“Kris…” Emily breathes out. 

“You seem a little tense, Son. You should relax a little.” 

The tone is teasing, as are Kristie’s fingers sliding higher on Emily’s thigh, tracing slow, tickling circles. 

Emily presses her legs together, regrets wearing shorts, (fights the urge to spread her legs wide right here on the airplane). 

“Here?” she hisses. 

She glances past Kristie, but Lindsey is asleep, head lolling to the side of her neck pillow. 

Kristie’s fingers hit the leg of her shorts and trace along it, dipping the tips of them up under, and Emily’s breath catches in her throat. 

Kristie raises an eyebrow at her and smirks. 

She leans in close, her breath hot in Emily’s ear as she says, “Don’t pretend this doesn’t turn you on, Sonnett. After those texts you sent me last night, what did you expect?” 

Emily swallows hard, pushes her head back into the headrest, looks out the window, and bites her lip, as she spreads her legs a little, pressing her thigh up against Kristie’s. 

She hears Kristie’s faint chuckle, feels her move away a little, and then her fingers stray higher. 

Emily squirms in her seat. Her eyes sweep the cabin, but nobody’s looking at them. Nobody can hear anything over the hum of the plane. Not even when she can’t stop the small whimper that escapes her lips when Kristie’s finger finds her panties and traces up the front of them, feeling the wet spot that’s developed there. 

“You like that?” It’s a question, but the answer is so obvious that Emily doesn’t respond. Not with words. She simply rocks up a little, feels the press of Kristie’s fingers a little harder against her. 

And then Kristie’s finger slides under the elastic, in the side, and brushes through the wetness that’s waiting for her. 

“Fuck,” Emily gasps. 

“Quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone to hear,” she urges in Emily’s ear. 

Emily bites her lip, presses back further into her seat, and rocks into the touch again. “Kristie,” she whines. 

“You’re blushing,” she whispers. 

“No fucking kidding,” Emily manages to bite out. 

“And you’re so wet.”

Emily swallows hard and Kristie slides a finger inside of her. 

“So, so wet,” Kristie reiterates. 

Emily doesn’t say, “Just for you.” She doesn’t say, “That’s because this is ridiculously hot even if I’m terrified we’re about to get caught.” She doesn’t say anything. She just feels. 

She feels as Kristie’s fingers, wet with her own juices, rub at her clit. She feels the press of Kristie’s thigh against her own. She feels the way her whole body is flushing with heat. She feels the way that even here, surrounded by people, where anyone could see or hear, she’s being worked up super fast, she can’t help being ridiculously turned on by Kristie. 

Kristie’s fingers disappear and Emily almost groans in protest. And then Kristie is shifting beside her, sliding fingers down Emily’s stomach, down into her shorts, straight into her underwear, and she sets to work again. 

It feels much more obvious now, the way Kristie’s hand is in her lap, the way the strain shows in her arm, in her elbow, in the way her muscles move. 

She can’t help being hyperaware, of Kristie, of everyone else, of the approaching flight attendant. 

“Shit! Kristie! Kris! She’s —”

Kristie’s arm stills, shifts enough that the pressure against Emily’s clit is still there, but her arm placement is less obvious. She stops the flight attendant with a clear, “Excuse me!” 

Emily wants to die. She wants to melt into her seat. She wants to kill Kristie. She might actually explode. 

Kristie’s finger moves just slightly on her clit and Emily bites almost through her lip. “Could I have a blanket, please? I’m a little cold.” 

The flight attendant looks slightly surprised but nods. Then her eyes flick to Emily. Emily tries to smile, she tries to look as normal as possible.

Kristie’s finger moves across her clit again. 

She’s getting fucked by her best friend’s older sister on the flight to go see her, surrounded by people including her own teammate, and now the flight attendant is looking right at her, and Emily isn’t sure that she’s ever been more turned on in her entire life. 

“Do you need anything?”

Kristie clears her throat. “Oh, she’ll take a water, please.” 

The flight attendant’s eyes dart between them, but when Emily nods, she smiles and says, “I’ll get those things for you right away,” and then she walks away. 

Emily lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and accuses, “Are you trying to kill me?” 

Kristie smirks at her, slides her fingers lower again, dips two of them inside her. “Just thought a blanket might help us hide better, Son. Your hips thrusting isn’t super subtle.” 

Isn’t super subtle? What isn’t super subtle is Kristie’s fingers working in and out of her! 

But then —

“This works for you, huh? The public thing? I’ve always wanted to.”

Emily whimpers, squirms in her seat, let’s Kristie in a little deeper. 

“And here I am, on a plane, next to you…”

“You and Rachel never…?” And it’s probably a stupid idea to bring up the girl who’s fucking you’s ex WHILE it’s happening. Especially if the way that Kristie’s hand stills is any indication. 

“No. She wasn’t into it,” Kristie replies. 

“Here you go, ladies,” the flight attendant says, returning with the blanket tucked under her arm and a cup of ice water for Emily. She hands both over and asks, “Do you need anything else?” 

As she asks, Kristie’s fingers slide back into Emily. “No, I think we’re okay, thank you. Sonnett?” 

Emily almost chokes. Kristie’s fingers curl inside her, the blanket covering the movement from view, but the flight attendant is once again staring right at her. “Do you need anything else, hun?” 

Kristie works her fingers in and out, then in and out again, and Emily might explode, she might go insane. It feels so fucking good, and yet —

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.” Her voice croaks as she speaks, but thank God the flight attendant takes her words at face value, smiles, and walks away. 

“I dunno about your poker face, babe,” Kristie whispers, leaning in close again. 

And then she picks up her pace, works her fingers in and out, applies friction to Emily’s clit. It’s a little awkward and there isn’t a lot of space, but Emily is so turned on, so sensitive from the situation, that it doesn’t take long. 

She muffles her moan with her hand, biting into her palm enough that it hurts, that it leaves a mark when she pulls it away. She comes hard and fast and Kristie looks so fucking smug when she does, that Emily has half a mind to drag her to the bathroom and return the favor, just so that the whole plane could know that Kristie got fucked and by her, right there in the air. But they’re keeping them a secret, and if Lindsey woke up…

Kristie sucks her fingers into her mouth, glistening with Emily’s wetness. She hums in contentment, keeping eye contact with Emily as she does so. 

She licks her lips a moment later. 

“So good. I’d better get a proper taste later, Sonny.” 

All Emily can do is nod. 

  
  


There’s something really nice about being surrounded by her best friends again. It’s been a while since they’ve all been in a group like this. That’s how it works. That’s the side effect of their job. 

She almost forgets. 

Almost forgets that she’s been sleeping with Sammy’s sister, that their whole relationship could be put in jeopardy if Sammy found out, that Rose already knows about the crush, that Kristie fucked her on the flight there. 

Almost, but not quite. 

So maybe she can’t quite look Sammy in the eyes for any extended amount of time. 

But Emily has her role in the group, and it’s an easy one to fill when she’s feeling uncomfortable because she’s always coped by cracking jokes and now is no different. 

It feels good when her friends are all in stitches because of something she’s done or said. 

And then Kristie saunters over, joins the group, says, “Anyone up for Never Have I Ever?” 

And Emily remembers all too clearly. 

  
  


“Never have I ever...gotten so drunk that I poured a full bottle of champagne over my best friend only to realize it was actually her mom!” 

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Sammy protests, glaring at Rose. “And you two have similar builds from behind! It’s not really my fault!”

Rose shakes her head. “No. We really don’t.”

“I’m feeling very targeted here. I’m the reason you’re all here, you know!” Sammy declares as she takes a swig of beer. 

“Well, it’s your turn,” Lindsey points out. “You can target her back.” 

“Never have I ever thought that Rose was getting a contract with Sketchers,” Sammy says. 

“Hey!” Mal protests. “I didn’t target you!” She takes a swig, but then Kristie steps in. “This is lame. Don’t target. The whole point is to say things to find out who has done what, not just to make fun of things we all know about. Come on, Mal. Do something good.”

Mal thinks for a minute, then says, “Never have I ever had sex in my parents’ house.” 

Emily takes a swig and watches as Kristie does too. She tells herself there’s no twinge of jealousy when she thinks about who it might have been. 

“Much better. Okay, my turn. Never have I ever...cheated on a partner,” Kristie says. 

All eyes swivel around the circle. After a pause, Rose takes a swig. 

“WHAT?” Emily asks, eyes bugging out of her head. 

“In my defense, I was 10 and he started it by holding hands with Lucy McDowell on the playground.” 

Kristie rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t count.” 

Sammy laughs, though. 

“Okay, my turn,” Lindsey says. “Never have I ever joined the Mile High Club.” 

Emily chokes on air. She splutters and coughs and Rose pats her on the back in alarm, and Kristie smirks as she takes a long swig of her beer. 

“You okay?” Rose asks. 

Emily nods, composes herself, coughs once more, and takes a sip of her beer. 

“Wait is that a sip for the game or to help you breathe?” Mal asks. 

Emily shrugs, blushes, tries to get away with it. 

“No, come on. You have to tell us,” Lindsey protests. 

“No I don’t,” Emily croaks. She coughs again and drinks again. 

“Yes you do!” Comes a chorus of protests. Kristie’s voice is among them. 

Emily blushes deeper. “For both,” she admits. 

“Wait, really? Who have you fucked on a plane, Sonnett?” Mal asks. 

Emily shrugs. “That definitely ISN’T part of the game.” 

There’s an attempt at protest from Mal, but Rose backs her up and they move on. 

There’s a slight look in Lindsey’s eyes though, like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as sound asleep as Emily had thought on the plane. 

The thought gives her heart palpitations. 

  
  


The engagement brunch is loud and fun and has free-flowing mimosas. Everything is set up with a touch of elegance and a ton of flowers. It’s the perfect day to celebrate Sammy, and Emily has never seen her (or Pat, for that matter) smile more. 

Emily, on the other hand, is on edge. 

She ends up next to Kristie. 

It’s not on purpose. She was just talking to her when the seating happened, and so Kristie led her to a seat beside her. That was all. 

And now —

She really needs to stop wearing easy access clothing around Kristie. 

“We can’t!” Emily hisses as other people chatter around them. 

Kristie raises an eyebrow at her, traces a circle on the inside of her knee. “Can’t we?” 

Emily knows she’s already lost this argument, knows already that she’s going to give in, but she shouldn’t. This time it’s not strangers all around them, but friends, family. This isn’t where —

Kristie’s thumb grazes higher on her thigh. She turns to say something to the person on the other side of her, her voice light and airy, like her hand isn’t sliding higher and —

Emily gulps at her mimosa, tries to cool her rapidly heating body. Maybe if she distracts herself? Maybe if —

“Sonny, you good?” 

Rose is frowning at her across the table. 

“Huh? Yeah. Just thinking about the game next week. Chicago’s gonna be tough.” 

It’s a massive lie, but Rose nods sympathetically. 

Kristie slides her hand higher. 

“That Sam Kerr/Nagasato connection up top is just so hard to defend against,” Emily continues. She sounds vaguely manic, she thinks, maybe, but perhaps she can blame it on the alcohol. “Just Sam alone...Like some games it just feels like if she gets the ball, that’s it, it’s over.” 

Kristie’s hand guides her legs wider. It’s not a very ladylike position to sit in in a dress, but the tablecloth is long and she has her cloth napkin draped over her lap and —

“Yeah, Sam is a beast,” Rose replies just as Kristie’s fingers rub over Emily’s clit through her underwear. 

Emily tries not to react, tries not to moan or whimper or buck into the touch. She hopes she succeeds. 

“Totally. And AD is good, but her strikes are just —”

One of Kristie’s fingers probes into Emily’s underwear, feels how wet she is already. 

It’s embarrassing, but Emily can’t blush. Not here. Not now. 

She feels it creeping up her cheeks anyway. 

“What’re we talking about?” Kristie asks. She shifts position so she can access better, but she hides it under the guise of joining their conversation. 

“Sam Kerr killing it with the Red Stars this season,” Rose supplies. 

“Oh, God, Jane was complaining about her for a week after the last time we played them. Said even if you get a hand on the ball, it still goes in. Her kicks are that powerful.” 

She sounds completely normal, like she’s not doing anything under the table at all. She definitely doesn’t sound like she’s sliding her fingers inside of Emily at her own sister’s engagement party across the table from a close friend. 

“She makes me glad I’m not a goalie,” Rose says. 

“You make people glad they’re not goalies too,” Emily says. Her voice sounds slightly strained to her own ears, but if Rose notices, she doesn’t comment. 

Rose laughs. “Only when my hamstring lets me play properly.” 

“I wouldn’t want to face you as a goalie,” Kristie replies. She slides her fingers out, drubs them across Emily’s clit. 

Emily’s whole body shudders in reply. 

Kristie raises an eyebrow at her, as if she’s confused by her reaction, as if she doesn’t know full well exactly why Emily’s whole body just jolted. 

Before Rose can notice or question it, though, there’s a toast. 

Emily puts her hand on Kristie’s in her lap. Holds it still. 

“I can’t,” she murmurs just under her breath. 

Kristie rests her hand on Emily’s upper thigh. Leans over and whispers just low enough so that only Emily can hear while Pat’s dad cracks a joke and everyone laughs, “I need your fingers in me later, Sonny, but let me touch you now. You wouldn’t believe how wet I am for you right now.” 

Emily can’t help it. She slides Kristie’s hand back up, lets her slip her fingers back inside her underwear. 

Some day she’ll get Kristie back for this, but right now —

Fuck.

She just needs to let her touch her. 

  
  


“I don’t know. I never really got the whole ‘kiss every time someone clinks their glass’ thing.” 

Emily doesn’t understand how Kristie currently has enough presence of mind to partake in this conversation. She feels like she’s barely holding it together. 

Unlike on the plane when Kristie had been working towards a very specific goal, when she’d let her fingers work up a clear rhythm to push Emily over the edge, right now she’s just teasing. 

She’s been teasing on and off for the better part of fifteen minutes, now, and Emily feels like she might combust if Kristie doesn’t take her somewhere and fuck her properly soon. 

“It’s just like an excuse to make out in public, right?” Kristie continues. “I mean why not just have sex in public, too?” 

Rose and Lindsey laugh, but Emily can’t breathe. Kristie looks right at her, works her finger in and out, like it’s a challenge. Emily manages a weak chuckle. She grabs Kristie’s hand under the table, holds it still, feels the way Kristie wiggles the tip of her finger inside her. 

“Be right back. I’ve gotta pee,” Emily declaires. 

She gives Kristie a pointed look as she asks, “Where’s the bathroom again?” 

“Oh, I think my uncle is in the one down here. I’ll show you the one upstairs.” 

  
  


Emily pins Kristie against the door before it’s fully closed, causing it to slam. 

She slides her hand up under Kristie’s dress just as quickly, not bothering with foreplay, but whimpering when she feels that Kristie is dripping wet. 

“Fuck! Sonny! Little eager?” 

Emily kisses her hard, slides two fingers right into her. 

“You. Have been teasing me. All morning.” Emily punctuates her words with kisses along Kristie’s jaw. “You are driving me. CRAZY!” 

Kristie chuckles and Emily thrusts in harder, turning her laugh into a low moan. 

“Shhhh,” Emily coaxes. “Don’t want anyone downstairs overhearing, right?” 

“Fuck, Son,” Kristie whimpers. 

Her hips rock forward, matching Emily’s thrust. 

“Everyone down there would know you’re being fucked. You need to be quiet.”

“Jesus! Fuck, Em, you’re so hot!” 

Emily freezes, just for a moment, just to let the use of her first name sink in. It’s the first time Kristie has ever called her that, and somehow it makes all of this feel that much more real. 

“Don’t stop!” Kristie pleads. 

So Emily doesn’t. She uses her body weight to thrust in harder, to pin Kristie to the door as she works her lips over Kristie’s throat, over her shoulder, all tanned and exposed thanks to the spaghetti strap of her dress. 

Emily adjusts so that she can rub Kristie’s clit with her thumb while she keeps thrusting in. Kristie bucks into her touch. 

“Fuck, Em! Fuck! Just like that!”

“They’re gonna hear you, baby,” Emily murmurs in Kristie’s ear, flicking out her tongue against Kristie’s earlobe. Kristie is coming undone quickly in her hands and she can’t help feeling emboldened. 

She lets her teeth graze over Kristie’s collarbone, soothes it over with her tongue a moment later. 

“Jesus! You’re so — Fuck! I thought —”

Emily thrusts in a little harder, a little faster, the way she knows Kristie likes it. It’s not like the first time, she knows just where to hit now, just which spot to hit to drive Kristie wild. And she hits it now. She can tell because Kristie moans, she gasps, she cries out with each thrust, getting louder. 

Emily kisses her hard, swallows her moans, her cries. “Baby, we’re gonna get caught,” she chastizes. 

And Kristie wraps a leg around her, pulls her in closer. 

“Fuck, Emily, I’m gonna —”

And then she does. She comes all over Emily’s fingers, squeezing around them, pulsing, moaning. 

She drops her leg as she comes down and Emily slides her fingers out, licks them clean, holds Kristie’s gaze. 

“Fuck,” Kristie breathes out. “God, I’m gonna make you come so hard.”

And she does, with Emily perched on the edge bathroom vanity and Kristie on her knees, licking between her legs. She does with her fingers and her mouth and her free hand covering Emily’s mouth to muffle her moans. She does while leaving a mark on Emily’s inner thigh, a lasting reminder of just where she was, just who fucked her senseless. 

  
  


They straighten up, aware that they’ve been gone longer than they should have been, praying their absence hasn’t been noticed. 

They should have known better. 

“I fucking KNEW it!” Rose greets them the second they open the door. 

She hurries them back into the bathroom, Lindsey following close behind. 

“You’re fucking?” Rose demands. 

Emily’s cheeks are burning, and when she risks a glance at Kristie, she sees her blushing brightly too. 

“Sometimes,” Kristie replies. 

“Since when?” Rose demands. 

“At least since the flight over here,” Lindsey comments. 

“You knew?” Emily asks, feeling the color drain from her face. 

“I woke up when the flight attendant brought you a blanket. Your face wasn’t subtle, Son.” 

“Fuck. You didn’t tell —”

“Sammy? No,” Lindsey assures her. 

Emily breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Maybe we should,” Kristie says. 

Emily frowns and looks at her in disbelief. 

“If other people are finding out, then maybe she should know. I don’t like hiding things from her.” 

“But she’ll be mad! At both of us!” 

“For hiding it,” Rose counters. “Like I am, by the way! How long?” 

Emily looks at Kristie who shrugs, then mumbles, “A few months.” She braces for the response. 

  
  


Emily’s whole body is tense when they make it back to the party. They’re not going to tell Sammy. Not today. Not this trip. This trip is about Sammy. They agree. 

That doesn’t mean that they’re going to stop though. 

Kristie makes that abundantly clear when Kristie comes back to the hotel with Emily instead of staying at her house with her parents. She makes an excuse, something about it being weird without Sammy there. She’s staying at a hotel with Pat for some privacy. 

“I’m staying with you,” Kristie tells her. 

Emily’s naked on her bed in record time and Kristie’s mouth is working magic between her legs, but Emily’s mind isn’t shutting off, isn’t losing focus of anything besides the feeling of Kristie fucking her. 

“You really want to tell her?” 

Kristie pauses, sighs. “You want to talk about my sister during sex?” 

Emily shakes her head. “No. Sorry. Don’t stop.” 

But it’s too late. Kristie is crawling up the bed, laying down beside her, looking at her with curious blue eyes. 

“You don’t want to?” 

Emily swallows hard. “She’s gonna hate me.” 

“Because you’re sleeping with me?” 

Emily nods. 

Kristie seems to consider this for a long moment. Then, “Am I just sex? Am I just like, fulfilling some sexual fantasy?” 

“No.” The answer is quick. It surprises even Emily, but it’s not a lie. “No. Not at all. Am I just...convenient?” 

Kristie’s answer isn’t as quick, but the look in her eyes is genuine. “No, Em. I—” She cuts herself off, bites her lower lip. “I wanna tell her because I want this to be real. But if you don’t —”

“Real?” 

“Like, I want to be able to make stupid instagram posts and take you as my date to my sister’s wedding and not have to stop myself from reaching for your hand in public. I like you. I trust you. If I didn’t I wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to, like...experiment with sex stuff. Like public sex? It’s not that Rachel wasn’t into it, I just...never felt comfortable enough with her to try. And you —” Kristie bites her lip again, looks away, flops onto her back. 

But Emily chases her, kisses her softly, deeply, slowly. “It’s real for me,” Emily says. “I— You turn me on so much, but when you’re not around I still think about you all the time. I always have. I mean —”

But she doesn’t get to finish her thought. 

Kristie kisses her back, long and slow. 

  
  


When Emily comes, there’s no desperation to it, no urgency, no sense that they might get caught or they’re doing something forbidden. When Emily comes, it’s the hardest she’s ever come in her life. 

When Kristie comes, Emily’s taken the time, worked her up slowly, teased her until she was begging, and then touched her just right. She comes long and hard and Emily works her up again right away, this time with her mouth. 

  
  


They spend the night together. It’s the first time, but it feels like more. It feels like something they’ve done before. It feels like —

“OH MY GOD MY EYES!”

Emily pulls the sheets up over them, her own eyes wide as Sammy covers her face, turns to face the door as it clicks shut. 

“KRISTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO BREAKFAST!”

“Fuck,” Kristie mumbles. 

Emily hears her moving around behind her, can just picture her checking the clock to see the time. 

“Fuck.”

“WOULD ANYBODY CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT I JUST UNWILLINGLY WITNESSED?” Sammy shrieks.

“How did you even get in here?” Emily asked instead of answering. 

“I TOLD THEM I WAS YOUR SISTER AND COULD I SURPRISE YOU! HOUSEKEEPING LET ME IN! NOW WHAT THE HELL???”

“We’re dating. Surprise. Let me get dressed,” Kristie muttered.

Emily’s eyes go even wider. Dating? They hadn’t...well, she guesses they sort of. 

“Dating?” Sammy’s voice softens. “My best friend and my sister? Oh my God, we can do a double wedding!”

Kristie throws a shirt at Emily who slips it on. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We haven’t been dating that long,” Kristie replies. 

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re where you and Pat are,” Emily agrees. 

“Okay, but you’re dating? For real? You and Sonny? Sonny, you and Kristie?” 

Emily swallows hard, slips on some shorts, crosses to stand in front of Sammy. “Yeah. You’re not...You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Oh my God, why would I be mad? I love both of you and now you’re together! This is amazing! Okay, double date. Now. This morning. I’m calling Pat. You two...get properly dressed.” 

Sammy’s eyes scan over the bed and she wrinkles up her nose. “Actually maybe shower too.” 

Kristie looks at Emily and raises an eyebrow and Sammy clearly catches it. “NOT together. Not while I’m here. Please. I love you, but I do NOT need to know my sister is getting laid.” 

Kristie laughs. 

She moves to Emily, presses a soft kiss to her cheek. “Shot first shower,” she murmurs. 

Emily grins. “Your sister is —”

“If this is sex details I don’t wanna know,” Sammy cuts her off. 

Emily shakes her head and laughs. “No. She’s just something else.”

Sammy grins. “Always has been.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
